Every story has a beginning. Sometimes it’s humble and often, we may not even realize what we might start. I’m sometimes asked how I became a writer, an author. There were steps to the journey, like any other, and I decided at an early age I wanted to tell stories. Before I could write, I dictated little tales to my mother and illustrated them in crayon. At the age of nine, after meeting a family patriarch at a family reunion, I wrote a poem about pioneers. I had learned that branch of my family arrived in my hometown of St. Joseph, Missouri via wagon train. The plan had been to go westward, all the way to Oregon or California. It might have been the fact my great-great-great grandmother gave birth to my great-grandfather’s father in St. Joseph or maybe she just quietly informed her husband she would go no further. The family stayed in the new, growing city on the banks of the Missouri River and prospered.
So, I wrote a poem and because the local newspaper featured a page for children to share their talents on Saturday mornings, I mailed it to them. Some of my cousins had been featured with artwork but I never could draw so I wrote. They used my poem, which thrilled me, but after my beloved grandfather, Pop, passed away, a clipping of the poem was laid to rest with him. Even at such a young age, I saw a power in words.
My fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Berryman, had been a country school teacher early in her career. Although I attended a big, brick elementary school catering from kindergarten through eighth grade, she applied many of the teaching methods she had learned. If a student excelled in a subject, we taught others. I had down time so I began writing a novel in the back of my blue pressed cardboard binder. Pages of it still exist, in my late mother’s desk drawers. For each page of text, I created an illustration.
By then, I read many adult books, each approved by my mother. My favorite was Margaret Mitchell’s classic “Gone With The Wind.” I had worn out her book-of-the-month copy and my dad presented me with my own copy on my birthday. My first effort at a novel was titled “Goodbye Dixie” and was set on a plantation during the Civil War.
I decided then I wanted to become an author. During my teens I scribbled and managed place in a short story contest at my high school. One of my English teachers and favorite instructors throughout my life, Mr. Gary Sims, encouraged my dreams. He once read an essay to the class I had written and told them it was mine after he read it. I still have the paper with his comments inked in red across the top : “100%. Beautifully written.” His encouragement and the opportunity to attend a young writer’s seminar at Pittsburg State University in nearby Kansas (I have another teacher, Mrs. Mildred Stover to thank for that one) fueled my dreams.
In college I was on the staff of the campus newspaper and worked my way up to share the editor title with another student. I also was on the staff of the literary magazine and once I transferred to a four-year university, I also won a prize for my fiction. One of my professors asked me during a one-on-one conference what I planned to do after graduation. I laughed and said I’d like to write but I probably lacked the talent. Dr. Ackiss informed me I had the potential but whether or not I would become a writer or author was up to me.
After receiving my degree, I worked at a local fast-food restaurant, did some substitute teaching, volunteered at the neighborhood elementary school, and wrote. My next break came when my college creative writing teacher, Kay Hively, gave my name to the local radio station on request. They sought an advertising copywriter. Her recommendation netted me an interview and I was asked to write sample ads. I figured the chance would end there but I was hired. During my radio years, as I moved through every facet of the business, writing, interviewing notables including state senators, country music stars, and the US Attorney General. Some ads I wrote for the Missouri Beef Industry council also played on other stations.
I wrote and managed to sell some of my work. I often sent my stores to my uncle Darrell Neely to read and he, too, encouraged my dreams. My dad had been proud and expected great things from the time I wrote the first novel. Although it wasn’t the best writing, he noted how many fifth graders write a novel in the back of their binder?
Unfortunately, one summer’s day my job was eliminated and my confidence in writing lagged as I found employment to pay my bills. I still wrote. I eventually ended up at Wal-Mart where I wrote a few pieces for their corporate newsletter, unheard of from a lowly cashier.
As people often do, I got married. When I informed my husband I dabbled in writing, he encouraged my passion. I wrote and sold some articles. My long-time dream had been to write novels and I realized with two twin toddlers underfoot, if I didn’t get started, I might never do it. So I did. My husband was my cheerleader, coach, and first beta reader. I bounced ideas off of him and after about eighty rejections from publishers and agents, I signed my first contract.
I worried I might be a one-hit wonder but my uncle by marriage, Wayne Rigdon, assured me that wouldn’t be the case. Today, I have around sixty titles published with several publishing companies including The Wild Rose Press, World Castle Publishing, and Evernight Publishing. I’ve also in the past been a part of Champagne Books, the defunct Rebel Ink Press, and the now closed CleanReads (formerly Astraea Press).
That’s my beginning and there’s yet to be an end. I hope there never will be.
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